Lasso the Moon
by rewritetheending
Summary: "Jim and Kate lost something precious all those years ago, and no grand gala can erase that pain. Castle's only goal is to honor Johanna's memory and create a legacy that may bring a smile to the faces she loved. If they can smile in a tuxedo and gown while guests generously donate to the cause, all the better." A holiday fic spanning Feb-Dec 2011 (S3/S4).


She's probably forgotten about it already. Or rather, she's probably assumed he's forgotten about it. After all, he has a tendency to get overexcited about grandiose ideas that most people blow off in the next breath. But it's important to note that he also follows through, attacks his dreams with an enthusiasm rarely dulled by practicality, so he hasn't forgotten a thing about what they discussed two weeks ago.

If she has, it will only make it more fun to surprise her later.

After Castle had first opened up to Beckett about his plans to create a scholarship in her mother's name, and the desire to host a fundraiser to benefit the cause, they had sat at her dining room table and built upon each other's ideas, the steady hum of exhilaration so similar to the energy he felt when their shared theories broke cases and delivered justice. Though she had kept her typical caution close at hand – and he'd kept his bouncing legs well-hidden beneath the table – Beckett had been willing to explore a few different ways they might raise money together, and he'd stayed at her apartment later than expected to talk about the possibilities. She'd even poured him a glass of wine from the bottle she had been drinking when he'd crashed her guitar solo. All in all, it had been a great night.

And in the days since, he's been hard at work to orchestrate an even better one.

He's sitting at his desk now, and takes a moment to look around. Carefully cocooned within walls made up of hundreds of books, Castle recognizes the comfort inherent in being surrounded by the stories of strangers, their circumstances undoubtedly different, but their journeys so often the same. Then he brushes his fingertips over the keys of his laptop, reverent as he considers the hours he's spent putting a spin on her story – or perhaps even _their_ story – for the whole world to see.

But what he's planning for this fundraiser – well, the responsibility sort of takes his breath away. Because this is Johanna Beckett's story, and while the tale of a wife, mother, friend, and hero will be told to as many people as will listen, he's mostly concerned with satisfying an audience of two. Jim and Kate lost something precious all those years ago, and no grand gala can erase that pain. Castle's only goal is to honor Johanna's memory and create a legacy that may bring a smile to the faces she loved.

If they can smile in a tuxedo and gown while guests generously donate to the cause, all the better.

* * *

Juggling her keys, bag, and the stack of mail she picked up downstairs, Kate pushes through her front door and hurries to lock it behind her with the misguided hope that the early November chill will be abandoned in the hallway she's just escaped. She's more than a little exhausted, the sun having set hours ago and a hot bath calling her name, and all she wants to do is drop everything to the floor and sink beneath the surface of the water until she's warm again.

But then the corner of one envelope catches her eye, the embossed script uncharacteristic of her usual mail and the name on the return address causing her heartbeat to stutter more dramatically than it should.

She talks to the man every day; his name on an envelope really isn't reason enough to bring pink to her cheeks.

Kate empties her arms of everything but the one item she needs to investigate further, toeing off her boots as she makes her way into her living room. She doesn't bother with her coat, though, uninterested in waiting any longer than necessary. Because he's sent her something. Something that she's certain is both beautiful and significant, even when his use of Black Pawn's mailing address should suggest an impersonal edge. Whether she explains it away with a woman's intuition or finely-honed detective skills or the mere fact that Richard Castle has something up his sleeve – his mischief giving her cause to smile more often than she'd like to admit – she knows it's going to be big. It's going to matter.

Tugging her coat a little tighter, as though the fabric might keep her emotions contained, she releases her lower lip from where she's damn near drawn blood with whatever mix of nervousness and adoration has begun to tap out a greeting that can't be ignored. Then she slips a fingertip into a loose corner of the envelope and tears the expensive paper, freeing the card inside.

 _Mr. Richard Castle requests the pleasure of your company at the First Annual Johanna Beckett Memorial Holiday Gala._

A small gasp breaks the silence of her apartment, and Kate traces the surface of the invitation – details about the time and place and promises of live music and a silent auction – as though her sense of touch will allow her to believe what sight alone cannot. Memories of a night in February come back to her; Castle's idea of funding a scholarship in her mother's name and Kate's silly dreams spilling from a tongue loosened by wine. But whereas she'd said farewell to the fantasy when she'd said goodnight to him, he'd held tight to everything they'd envisioned together, refusing to let go even after she'd run away in the wake of her shooting, when she'd given him every reason to forget any hopes they'd ever shared. It's been months since that night, some of them quite ugly, but he found a way to keep going with the wishes she'd made.

She could ask herself _why_. Why he would go to that much trouble, spending what she was sure was an obscene amount of time and money, pulling the kinds of strings she couldn't even reach, just to plan a party in honor of a woman he'd never even met.

She could ask herself, but she already knows the answer.

Because he loves her.

Because he loves her, and by extension, he loves all of the things she loves and wants to dream all the things she dreams and give to all the things to which she only wishes she could give. Because just as George Bailey had promised Mary, Castle would throw a lasso around the moon for Kate. Or perhaps he already has.

The longer she sits on her couch, her bath long forgotten, her mind skips between the past and present and back again. She thinks about the time she'd spent at the loft less than a week ago, a celebratory dinner after a hostage situation and bank explosion – the aftershocks of which continue to rattle her ribcage. Martha had asked her if she had any plans for Christmas and New Year's, and it had seemed like an innocent enough question, even if it had struck Kate as a bit strange to ask about the holidays almost two months in advance. And Kate had felt guilty when she'd shrugged and confessed that she'd probably be working, but the twinkle in Martha's eye never dulled, nor did those of Castle or Alexis beside her. At the time, it had been easy to dismiss their excitement as being the sort of magical delight typical of that family, but now she wonders if they'd been toying with her, already knowing that a special invitation was headed her way.

Then she frowns, worried about having to go to Gates with this, concerned that her captain will refuse to grant her the night off for something frivolous – especially something planned by a certain dilettante writer – when there are criminals to be caught and justice to be served. There will probably be a way to work it out, but _oh_ , she would love to have Ryan and Esposito at the gala, too. Her brows knit tight, she huffs into the emptiness around her and decides she'll cut whatever deals she has to cut at the precinct. Her team will be by her side for this.

Her team, and her father. Of course, she's sure her father has already received an invitation of his own, but she'll need to talk to him about it. While he's been to his share of business functions and holiday parties over the years, Jim Beckett is far more comfortable with a quieter take on the Christmas season, an obvious result of having lost the brightest light in his life. But this event is _for_ Johanna, a chance to bring that light back, even in the smallest of ways.

She imagines her mom's laughter, almost feeling it shake her own shoulders. The very idea that Kate's favorite author – a man who manages to be both a nuisance and a saint – has fallen in love with her and taken it upon himself to orchestrate a fundraiser that will allow truth to conquer more? Well, there's no doubt Johanna would be amused. And proud. Very, very proud.

Jumping up, the invitation still clutched in her hand, Kate realizes she'd going to need something to wear, and there's no way she's letting Castle supply her with another formal gown, not when he's already done too much. But she's going to need some help, emotional support at the very least, and she hurries to her phone to call Lanie. Because while her gratitude is immense, she's overwhelmed by all of it.

The memory of her mother. The anticipation surrounding the gala. The love of a man for whom she wants to be more.

* * *

It's two days before a Christmas, a chilly Friday evening buzzing with excitement, the energy as evident among the people bustling about the sidewalks of Midtown Manhattan as it is within the warmth of the town car making its way through the streets. Castle's hands are twisted in his lap, and he attempts to distract himself with the view of the multicolored lights and extravagant window displays of the stores they pass, finally giving up and smiling at his mother and daughter.

"Thank you both for everything you've done to help me put this together."

Martha leans over to pat his knee, her many bracelets clinking against each other to create their own kind of Christmas song. "Of course, Richard, but you really need to relax. You've created quite a magnificent affair, and now it's time to enjoy your night with a lovely detective by your side."

"I don't know how often she'll actually be by my side," he counters. "But I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless."

But it's not long before she is.

By his side.

Kate.

After he and his family had arrived at the venue – early, at Castle's insistence – they'd been escorted into the ballroom by the hotel's event coordinator and reassured that everything was ready to go as planned. As he looks around the room, he's glad guests have yet to gather because he's having trouble moving from the entryway, enchanted by the décor and everything the night promises. Displays for the silent auction are set up among piles of wrapped gifts, tables with snow globe centerpieces are prepared for dinner, and the dance floor is just waiting to be filled with a joyous crowd. And in the far corner stands a Christmas tree unlike anything he's seen outside of Rockefeller Center, breathtaking in its elegance.

But even more breathtaking, and at least as elegant, is the woman who has appeared beside him and is taking it all in, her eyes pooled with bittersweet tears that don't surprise him at all. Kate's wearing a floor-length scarlet gown that caresses her curves with a tenderness he respects, the bateau neckline high enough to hide the scar he assumes she'd like to keep from public view. And he does his best to catch the whimper that gathers in his mouth when he notices the back of her dress. Or, to be more accurate, the total lack of the back of her dress. There's only an expanse of skin, reaching from one shoulder blade to the other and tripping down the ridge of her spine.

"Castle, I—this is stunning," she whispers.

It's sort of a pot-kettle comment, and he'd like to call her on it, but he doesn't think she's ready for such an honest moment when she's already bubbling with more emotion than she prefers to acknowledge. So, he offers a nod and a humble smile instead, then turns to Jim Beckett with his hand outstretched, welcoming Kate's father to the event Castle hopes will ease the tightness around the man's heart, if only for a night. Small talk is made until Castle gets called away by Paula at the same time he hears Lanie squeal a hello to Kate, and then a bit of a whirlwind kicks up and he finds himself working the crowd as people arrive to the sounds of the harpist positioned just outside the ballroom.

During the cocktail hour, he's able to keep an eye on her, even as he encourages those with the deepest of pockets to bid on the silent auction items in the name of a worthy cause. Kate is gracious as she mingles with other guests, her smile brilliant and her protectiveness of her father clear. Back when the invitations had first been mailed, he'd almost expected some pushback from her – their original brainstorming had happened so many months before, and she tended to shy away from even a hint of the limelight – but she'd only expressed her sincerest thanks, and he supposed she was willing to shelve her own hesitance when it came to honoring her mother. And now, watching her engaged in a conversation with the mayor and a couple of New York-based celebrities, he's reminded once more of how extraordinary she is.

He may have thrown his checkbook around, and promised favors he'd be returning for a while, but Kate's the one giving life to this scholarship fund, the one whose passion for justice is so much like everything he's heard of Johanna's. And when this event is deemed a success, he'll be sure to thank her, even as he knows she'll rush to deflect it back to him.

With dinner approaching, Castle finds a microphone and asks everyone to take their seats, then uses the few minutes of quiet to explain the importance of the fundraiser and gestures toward Jim and Kate for a subtle introduction. His small speech finished, his official responsibilities fulfilled, he joins his family and friends for the delicious multi-course meal, laughing when Jenny eventually drags Ryan onto the dance floor and raising an eyebrow when Lanie does the same to Esposito, the questionable status of their relationship given an answer amid the joy of the holiday season.

It's only when Alexis thrusts the pointy toe of her shoe into his shin and his mother looks like she's developed a rather obnoxious tic that he decides he should ask Kate to dance with him before the redheads handle the request on his behalf.

"Kate, if I'm interpreting these two lovely ladies correctly, I believe I'm supposed to ask you to dance with me."

He is treated to a smirk in response. "You don't want to ask me to dance with you?" she challenges.

"You know better than that." Castle pushes away from the table and holds his hand out to her. "It would be my pleasure."

And without another word, he helps lead them toward the middle of the room, where they join the others and lose themselves in the frivolity. There's still none of the uncertainty he might have expected from her, even when the music slows and he moves to pull her closer; he wonders if some of the magic that bewitched Lanie and Esposito has also settled upon Kate's bare shoulders.

She's still wearing her heels, so he feels her breath against his lips when she presses her body into his waiting embrace, missing it a second later when she shifts away from the kiss that's just out of reach. His longing doesn't linger, though. It can't when he feels the tip of her nose drag along the line of his jaw, stopping only when she can murmur into his ear as they sway together.

"Thank you, Castle." Her voice is low, as soothing as it is stimulating. "For creating something bigger than I could have imagined. For making my dad smile in a way I don't get to see often enough. For everything, really."

There's so much he wants to say. Maybe just one word. Or perhaps three. Or a lifetime of vows that would leave her rolling her eyes or smothering a laugh or hiding a timid grin. But nothing comes out, his voice wrapped up in too much of her to be of any use at all. So he holds her a little tighter, and lets his hand roam the skin she's left exposed on her back; when he feels goosebumps rise to the surface, he pretends they're the result of a chill in the room, unrelated to the small moan he feels against his neck. Then he touches his mouth to the mess of brown waves atop her head and sighs.

This isn't them, it's not what they do.

But it's everything he wants, the only thing on his Christmas list.

* * *

The top of the Empire State Building makes a convenient focal point as Kate continues to inhale and exhale in an attempt to ease the ache in her chest. She had suffered only one fundraiser-related breakdown after receiving the invitation at the beginning of November – the anxiety sharpened by the sniper case was another story altogether – but she'd known it was unlikely she'd escape without at least one more. Her only complaint is that it's happening here, at the actual event, rather than lying dormant until she can seek shelter in the privacy of her apartment.

At least she'd been able to get out of the ballroom without calling attention to herself; her father had left several minutes earlier, the boys were still happily trapped on the dance floor, and Castle had ducked away to say goodbye to some of the evening's benevolent donors. And Kate had managed to stay just aware enough to dodge the danger of the lobby, where guests were passing through, choosing instead to flee to the rooftop deck, an area of the hotel typically closed off at this time of year, but opened easily by security guards with a crush on Nikki Heat.

Another deep breath, the release of which sends a visible puff of air into the freezing night, and Kate pulls the jacket around her to ward off a shiver and the sadness carried with it.

Even at this late hour, she picks up the soft sounds of "O Holy Night" drifting along the colorful street below, and the melancholy suddenly weighs a bit more. This time of year used to be so full of wonder, and tonight's celebration has reminded her of how much she wants that happiness back, but the memories have been impossible to ignore.

She's so grateful to have Castle in her life.

She just wishes her mom were here, too.

"I think you may have grabbed the wrong coat."

Kate spins to find Castle standing several feet away, her long wool coat draped over his arm as he eyes her from afar. For all his tendency to crack jokes, he's also careful to give her space, and he allows another minute to pass before he takes tentative steps toward her.

Shrugging beneath his tuxedo jacket, the scent of him keeping her at least as warm as the fabric itself, she replies. "Sorry. I didn't feel like stopping at the coat check, so I took this from the back of your chair. I thought I'd be back before you missed it."

"I didn't miss it; I missed you."

And then the truth lies lonely on the concrete floor of the rooftop deck when Castle passes it by, placing Kate's coat over the stone wall against which she leans and moving to her side to share her view of the city. Neither of them speak for quite a while, but the silence is comfortable. Maybe even intimate.

Eventually, she feels the tears begin to fall, the first couple just slow enough to tickle as they cling to her jaw before they relinquish their hold. Others follow, quicker in their descent and too wet on her face to be ignored in the cold night. They have every right to make their presence known, to remind her that even on days full of joy, there remains the rough edge of sorrow, but she still reaches up to brush them away. She can cry later.

But then she feels Castle bump into her, slipping his hand into the tuxedo jacket she still wears, pulling out a handkerchief, and suppressing a triumphant smile. Kate can't help but look upward as her breath stutters, searching the night sky for a star she knows she won't find while she forces herself to accept the help he's offering. He turns her toward him and wordlessly wipes the tears from her cheeks.

They slow, but they don't stop, so he decides upon a different approach, leaning in to kiss them away, his lips there to sip away her pain and absorb the chill.

"She would have had so much fun tonight," she mumbles into the sliver of space between them. "You'd probably be downstairs trying to drag her off the dance floor right now."

Castle's mouth still glides over the surface of her skin, though she hears him hum for her to continue.

"And I had fun tonight. I hope you know that." Another hum and what she thinks is supposed to be a nod. "I hope you know that I'm happy, even when it's a little bit of a sad-happy or a happy-sad. The happy is always there, and it's because of you."

"Kate."

She has no idea if the soft sound of her name is meant to encourage or inhibit her confession, but only a few words remain. "And most of all, I hope you know the things I haven't been brave enough to say."

The tracks of her tears are mostly gone, and it's fortunate because he's no longer tending to her grief; his mouth is pressed against hers, falling open on a moan when her lips part to ask for more. His hands slide around her hips and beneath the jacket until they touch her bare back once more, using the leverage to hold her close. It's unnecessary when she wouldn't dream of being anywhere else, her fingers combing through his hair for a little leverage of her own.

When the kiss finally ends, it's impossible to ignore the freezing air any longer, so she backs away to ease out of the tuxedo jacket, returning it to him and fetching her coat from where he'd left it. They're both quiet – and in a bit of a daze – while they cover up, but as she takes his hand and begins to lead him toward the stairway that will bring them back down to earth, he shakes his head and tugs her toward him. It's then that she notices Bing Crosby crooning from afar, and the crooked smile on Castle's face.

"One last dance, Kate?"

"Only the last for tonight," she replies shyly, nuzzling against him as they move to the music.

They dance for several minutes, alone in a city of millions and lit by a moon that seems closer than ever before. Content in his arms, Kate's mind wanders to her plans for the rest of the weekend. She has to work the next two days, both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and she knows Castle won't bother her about being busy when they've had such an amazing night together; still, she's suddenly determined to do whatever she can to leave the precinct at a decent hour on the 25th. It's been a long time since she's had a reason to celebrate the holiday with more than a mug of hot chocolate and a longing for the past, but she wants to do it for him.

He's been very good this year.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for reading, and for the ongoing support as I continue to play with these characters. Whatever you celebrate, I hope you have a wonderful holiday season!


End file.
